Mad Axe Murderer Man (Spain)

Spain ~ Unknown – 2001

During my childhood my family would spend their summer holidays trawling through Europe. Wow, sounds wonderful! Well…sure, it does now, but back then I thought of it as a living hell. I mean, imagine this – five children and two adults squeezed into a battered people carrier, in searing heat…driving, and driving, and driving – STOP – get out and look at a cathedral (groaaaan), driving, and driving, and driving – STOP – get out and look at a museum (groaaaan) …and on it goes, for six whole fucking weeks.

All the while, this is the entertainment my parents provided:

“I SPPYYY WITH MY LITTLE EYE, SOMETHING BEGINNING WITHHHH…T!”

“Trees?”

“I SPPYYY WITH MY LITTLE EYE, SOMETHING BEGINNING WITHHHH…R!”

“Road?”

“I SPPYYY WITH MY LITTLE EYE, SOMETHING BEGINNING WITHHHH…S!”

“Shoot? As in, I am going to shoot myself in the face if we don’t stop playing this horrific game.”

Naturally for a bunch of children that is, simply put; torture of the highest kind! But weirdly now the prospect of a summer road trip sounds like an absolute dream to me, minus the I-spy game of course. That remains in the number one spot as the shittest game ever, that’s undisputed.

As you can imagine there were many hairy moments and weird occurrences during these times, far too many to mention! But there are a couple that always stand out for me – one of which I will tell now…it was a pretty typical summer holiday, we had already been in the car for an unthinkable amount of hours, consequently there was a foul smell of car sick lurking in the air, which made my (then) two year old sister’s rendition of Uptown Girl all the more annoying:

“UPTOWN GIRL! SHE BE LIVIN’ IN AN UPTOWN GIRL – SHE BE LIVIN’ IN AN UPTOWN GIIII-RRRL, SHE BE LIVIN’ IN AN UPTOWN GI-RRRL.”

(Short three second intermission)

“UPTOWN GIRL! SHE BE LIVIN’ IN AN UPTOWN GIRL – SHE BE LIVIN’ IN AN UPTOWN GIIII-RRRL, SHE BE LIVIN’ IN AN UPTOWN GI-RRRL.”

(It was like this until the end of time, or at least so it seemed!)

Eventually the day got away from us, and the darkness started to set in (as in night time – not death, unfortunately). As usual we began our usual search for a camp site sign, so we would have somewhere to stay for the night…only this time, there wasn’t one…we kept driving, and driving…but nothing…of course this was in the days before smart phones and GPS, so we tried to check the tattered map…no luck there either!

It was now pitch black.

There was only one thing for it my Father said, we’d have to camp here, and just continue on in the morning. We didn’t really have the energy to protest, and to be honest we did seem totally out of options, so desperate for sleep – we all scrambled to clip together the tent poles, and stamp the pegs into the soft ground beneath us…my Mother decided it was safer (for her and the baby) to sleep in the car…we weren’t given this luxury of course!

The night was cold, but as we all nestled in next to each other it soon got warm, if not a little gross and clammy. That’s when we heard him…

“RARRRAAAA-HAHA!”

“Ohhhh my Goeeeddddd…what was that?” Did you hear that?!”

“RARHEEEE-HAHAHA!”

We all clung to each other as some mad bastard started hitting the side of the tent, and then attempted to pull on the entrance’s zipper…

“Ahhhh, ohhh, Jesus-fuck…what, did you? What is it? WHO ARE YOU – GO AWAY! Just, PLEASE.”

We tried to stay perfectly still, but we couldn’t help but shiver in fear, we all tried to shove each other out as offerings for him…

“Go see him, he wants you, you’re oldest…do you think I want to die?! I’m not going out there! I don’t want a stranger using my skin as clothes!” Or my skull as a tea cup!!!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Arghhhhhh!!!!!! Hail Mary, full of grace…”

“MEEEE-HAHAHA!”

That’s when we all began to urinate in our sleeping bags…well, I assume I wasn’t the only one…and with that we spent the rest of the night hugging each other crying in fear, thinking we were going to be butchered one by one.

In the morning we found that we had drove into a field the night before…and the mad axe murderer that had threatened to kill us, was nothing more than…a small scruffy looking donkey.

I wonder if there is anyone out there who didn’t have to play, “I Spy” when they drove about. Did you also have people in the car who couldn’t spell or who changed the word everytime someone guessed it? Loved your story.

Oh my God, I HATE I Spy! Same reason of ridiculously long car journeys behind it and also my cheating sister who always changed the thing she was spying if I guessed correctly. Glad you survived the ‘axe murderer’ to tell this tale. It made me smile.

OK, I can’t resist. Have you ever played, “Ink/Pink”? Or “Inky/Pinky” – Only enclosed boredom in a moving vehicle makes this work. You use two words that rhyme with the same number of syllables: So you want to play? You’re on!
First clue: subsequent to an event. Second clue: Sound bubbling up in enjoyment. See you’re good at this! (Thanks for checking out my blog too!)

Don’t get too complacent about donkeys. Those things will try and eat you just as easily as a mad-axe murderer having mistaken your fingers for carrots. I learnt that the hard way.
And ALWAYS be careful where you decide to sleep. We once stopped, lost, in a car park and slept amongst our possessions in the car. We won’t up to find a French market in full swing around us! Less scary, but more socially humiliating.
Glad it’s not just my family these things happen to.

I remember endless games of ‘I-Spy’ on road trips too. One day, on a long drive with the eldest of my own children, who had already asked fifty-three times if we were there yet, I taught him the game….it was a decision borne of desperation. He loved it, now they both love it and I’m doomed….Doomed I tell you!!

This tale is hilarious… I had to laugh out loud!
I hated I-Spy… I never seemed to guess right… years later my brother’s told me that if I guessed right they would just change what they had “spied”… a-holes!
We used to play the number plate game where you had to make a sentence out of the letters on the number plates 🙂 My mother was an English Teacher/Teacher Librarian so I think she thought it was a good vocabulary game hahaha.

Oh my, classic! I think I probably did the same with my little ones in my family – I mean, I can’t be losing to a kid now, can I?! haha! Maybe it is just part of life and I should make my peace with it…your number plate game sounds a little better mind…

Brilliant story John. “I SPPYYY WITH MY LITTLE EYE, SOMETHING BEGINNING WITHHHH…T!”
“Trees?”
Aaaaaah! I wasted away on that song with three brothers and just myself ,as the only girl in the family, and guess what I teach my own child? Yep! That’s right. I Spy! In. the. Underground train. In Germany!! It doesn’t get better than that LOL!

Sounds like the holidays in Belgium I had with my parents when I was a child (looong time ago)
Except for the camping part. We would stay with family we didn’t know (at least me and my sisters did not).
And for some reason we always had to go to a funeral… some holiday huhu
I have seen almost every church (plus cemetary) and museum in Belgium
These days we go to Disneyland with our kids or rent a cabin somewhere enjoying nature and no way ever are we going to run around looking at churches, an occasional museum maybe but definitly no church!!!

Disneyland sounds more fun and child orientated…I visited a lot of churches as a child too, not like because of funerals…but…anyway, yeah old gravestones aren’t as interesting to children as they are for adults it seems. Not really surprising!

Not every churchvisit was funeralrelated…My father loved to visit churches and my other loved going to a museum..so there you go the perfect childhorrorcombo 😉
We always wanted to go to an amusementpark like other children did…never happened
So now our children get spoiled with vistis to Disney and Moviepark. The oldest ones are going to the Doctor Who experience with my husband (I’m soooo jealous)
Creating some good memories here 😉

Hahahaa! Great story! I am a firm believer that the worse the experience, the fonder the memories… or maybe it’s just that we remember them better, having been so miserable / scared shitless they retain a certain clarity even after years and years of growing older / receiving intensive therapy. AND the worse the experience the more character it builds, so the wonderful strong person you are today is partly due to your being exposure to the dreaded I Spy. We play it occasionally but my youngest is only 3 and he doesn’t really GET anything more complicated just yet. Get him playing ‘Grandma’s Chest’ as soon as we can!

I spy was probably nicer than what my brother and I played in the back of the car…”MOMMMMM!” (To be said in a high pitched whine.) ‘He is touching me!” “She is on my side!” (The boundary marker in the car was a line of stitching in the seats). Probably a good thing my mom didn’t pack a gun in the glove compartment.
I was smart and didn’t travel with my kids for any longer than 2 hours in the day time. Longer trips were usually at night so they’d slip into a near coma state of sleep. Parents now just turn on the TV in the back of the mini van. Pansies.

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